


Bridges and Other Spanners

by snarechan



Series: Gladnoct Week (2018) [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams and Nightmares, Gap Filler, Gladnoct Week, M/M, Missing Scene, Omen Trailer (Final Fantasy XV), Reconciliation, gladnoct - Freeform, gladnoctweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 05:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: Noctis is visited by a nightmare that isn’t a nightmare, if matters don’t change course soon. He’s seen it all happen before.





	Bridges and Other Spanners

**Author's Note:**

> I have _anxiously_ been waiting for [Gladnoct Week over on Tumblr](https://gladnoctweek.tumblr.com/) to commence so I can begin flooding the fandom/tags with everything I've been cooking up for months now, and as of today it's finally begun! For **Day One: Cuddly Gladdy** I wrote not-so-fluffy-fluff? Diet fluffy? Semi-fluffy? It's sad with a happy ending, I assure you! After all, Gladio’s arms are big enough to carry his sword, his shield, and his prince to a better state of mind. So it must be so. :’)
> 
> It's recommended that readers are familiar with the [Omen Trailer](https://youtu.be/SZymd6r4wGg) and have played past Chapter 10 (or what I fondly refer to through gritted teeth as That Lover’s Tiff of Cosmic Proportions) to fully enjoy the scope of the story. Other creators have touched base on the subject, myself included, but I won't stop until I've expanded or altogether _fixed it in every conceivable way possible._ I'm sure nobody here will mind, though.
> 
> Beta read by Glyphenthusiast, for whom this story (and pretty much all the stories I was able to cram before the deadline) owes its beautification to. Their support and dedication means so much to me, so thanks to them for being _my_ guide!

_Noctis drifts by himself, but he isn’t alone. Insomnia is laden with Niflheim soldiers. They fill the streets, the subway platform, the train – crowding the area to the point he knocks shoulders with them in his attempts to get by._

_He starts running._

_Gunfire explodes everywhere around him. Machines and armored men alike give chase. The environment blurs and shifts. The city turns to a Niflheim military base to a desert – though he’s never_ been  _to one – and tilts as he falls through the world_

to awaken on a cot. Gasping, sweating, hands fisted in the sheets, Noctis bolted upright in bed. The total darkness of the room threatened to choke him. It’s pitch blackness was confining except for the periodic flashes of street lamps outside the single window. There shouldn’t be  _any_ light, the night all-encompassing.

That difference, the reality of it all, should have relieved Noctis of his nightmare. He  _did_ realize he’d had a nightmare and it was over; he’d experienced that exact one several times in the past. But he hadn’t been on a train heading to the center of Niflheim during those previous episodes. The transport’s rumbling along the tracks mirrored Noctis’ dreamscape too well to alleviate his heart racing.

Noctis shoved the covers aside and stumbled out of bed. Sans shoes and jacket, he darted from the private compartment and into the hallway. In his recklessness, his shoulder bounced off the wall as he rammed into it.

There were only two directions to take and he blindly chose one, using the momentum from his crashing into the wall to go right. At this late hour the sleeping car was empty, which allowed him to race through unimpeded. Noctis fled his personal daemons until he came to a dead end.

He staggered into the Regalia, his palms held out in front of him. Noctis caught himself from falling flat across the hood and saved his face from ramming into its wide expanse. The cool, familiar texture of the metal shocked him from his stupor. He hovered there, breathing heavy and watching his hazy reflection.

When he’d calmed, Noctis straightened in place and took in the sight of the storage hold. Nobody was here, either – just him and his father’s vehicle. His legs were unsteady; he used the side of the car as a guide to drag himself to the rear passenger door. Fumbling with the handle, he eventually manhandled it open and collapsed inside.

Noctis closed his eyes and rested both hands on his face, letting himself simply  _be_. The smell of the leather interior, the sensation of the seat cushions underneath him, the shade from the retractable top – all of it screamed ‘safe’. So why couldn’t he relax?

He’d always possessed a sort of reverence for his dad’s car. Most of his childhood had been spent in this very spot, going between important meetings, visiting dignitaries, or attending political functions. In some respects, whenever him and his father traveled it was the most personal time they’d ever spent alone together.

Despite how expert a job Cindy did detailing the Regalia, Noctis swore he still detected hints of his father’s cologne. It was as if a part of him remained with Noctis. The lack of comfort that fact brought him was distressing. He’d rushed here, even unconsciously, to seek solace and it wasn’t working like any of the instances before.

There came footsteps. Noctis hadn’t heard the approach until they were nearly upon him. He dragged his hands down his face and dropped them in his lap, but didn’t turn to acknowledge anyone.

Gladiolus opened the opposite set of doors and bent over, ducking his head in. The length of his arm braced against the metal exterior while his opposite hand gripped the doorframe. Of course it was  _him_. Noctis had bolted like a bat out of hell, so it was no wonder that their lightest sleeper had heard his escape. It was peculiar that the others hadn’t been disturbed – or they might have, and Gladiolus had requested to check up on him alone. Noctis was unsure which he’d prefer.

“There room for one more?” Gladiolus asked.

He shrugged, as good an invitation as he was willing to give. It was good enough for Gladiolus, anyway, the other man accepting the offer to join him in the backseat. There was a gap between them, Gladiolus keeping to his side and Noctis staying on his.

It didn’t used to be like this.

From an early age, Noctis had learned Gladiolus was a  _really_ tactile person. The slaps on the back and high-fives were just a small portion of the touches he’d freely give. He figured being an Amicitia had something to do with it. Iris loved hanging onto Noctis’ arm and when Noctis was a child Clarus had even patted him on the head once in greeting.

That wasn’t the extent of it, though. Once they started traveling together Gladiolus got more intense. Noctis had protested, often  _loudly_ , about the treatment. He’d brush off Gladiolus’ playful shoves or the ruffling of his hair in their lighter moments. Complaints about Gladiolus’ close proximity in the tent or how absurdly long his legs were as Gladiolus’ boots knocked against his in the Regalia were frequent.

All of it stopped after Altissia.

And Noctis felt emptier for it.

This distance was so much worse, so much  _more_ , than them losing the understanding they’d developed growing up. They didn’t  _need_ words to communicate, when a simple glance or nod of the head was sufficient to convey their meaning. Now neither of them could interact, much less speak, to one another without it dissolving into fits. After the near-failure in retrieving his ancestor’s katana they’d agreed to work through their differences, but where to start? The divide seemed insurmountable.

Gladiolus cleared his throat. “Bad dream, I take it?”

“Yeah. A 'bad dream’.” Noctis’ face contorted from some kind of emotion he couldn’t identify. He didn’t know the source of his irritation (or if it was even directed at Gladiolus), much less how to deal with it. “The same one I’ve had since Lestallum and all the  _fucking time_.”

Which wasn’t  _entirely_ true. Only certain parts of the nightmare stuck with him after waking. The worst of it had been prior to confronting Titan, which is when the night terror first occurred, and since then only sporadically.

It tended to transpire whenever Noctis was stressed, such as the night before Gladiolus left to undertake his family’s trials or…before Luna’s sacrifice. Such a pattern couldn’t be coincidence, so whenever the nightmare made a resurgence Noctis had taken it as the ill-omen it might be intended. Stranger things had happened in his life.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Gladiolus’ jaw working, like he was grinding his teeth. Probably irritated over another subject that Noctis had denied making him privy to, but why would he have? Discussing personal interests or private matters often ended up embarrassing for the both of them. Still, Noctis anticipated an explosion or Gladiolus to leave.

Noctis wouldn’t hold it against him in either case. He was surprised Gladiolus’ patience had lasted as long as it had, that the man had settled on voicing his every grievance or sitting on the outskirts of their camp in the Fodina Caestino Mine instead of…he didn’t know what. Returning to Lucis to rejoin the Crownsguard or facing Niflheim by himself, maybe. Someone of Gladiolus’ stature and aptitude wasn’t without options, a dark part of Noctis often reminded him.

To his surprise, Gladiolus asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Snippets of having to confront armies, of bleeding and hurting without the support of his friends or family, had Noctis snuffling. He rubbed irritably under an eye to cover the slight, but he thankfully found the last vestiges of sweat from his night terror and not any wetness from tears. His hand shook during the process, so he returned it to his lap.

“I just want them to  _stop_.” Noctis meant for the words to come out sharp and cut the conversation off, but to his own ears he sounded like a scared, defenseless child. Once again, he made himself a fool in front of Gladiolus at the worst of times.

“Then tell me. It might help,” Gladiolus persisted. He reached out a hand, hesitating, and opted to loop his arm around Noctis’ headrest so as to ease closer without making contact. The gesture was most likely borne of thoughtfulness, but Noctis was only left feeling hollow.

“How? It’s just a stupid nightmare, I already know that! It can’t hurt me.”

“ _Because_ —” Gladiolus started, his tone terse until he forcefully gathered his composure, “because I want my friend back.”

Noctis’ shoulders went taut, his gaze kept forward. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for clarification and risk shattering the moment. But he was listening,  _hoping_ —

“I miss the guy who came back for his training, all those years ago. Who hasn’t let himself get knocked down and stayed down since then.” Gladiolus ran his tongue along his bottom lip before resolving to continue, Noctis gradually starting to incline his head to look up at him. “The same guy who always made time for my bratty little sister and anyone else that’s needed his help, no matter their situation. His people, our friends… _I_  need him.

"If confiding in me can bring him back, then I’m here. Anytime, anywhere.”

“And if he’s gone?”

Noctis didn’t realize he was clenching his hands over his knees, the knuckles bone white, until Gladiolus’ reached over to grab one. He pried it off his pant leg and let Noctis clench his palm in a death grip, instead. His skin was dry and hot, but the pressure was  _steady_.

Gladiolus let out a soft hum, it sounding like Noctis’ name, before he said, “Not gone – lost, maybe. His sense of direction is kind of shitty. But I have it on good authority that I’m the best tracker there is, so I’ll guide him home. If he lets me.”

Their problem, Noctis concluded in that moment, was twofold.

Part of it were his own actions. Gladiolus had respected Noctis’ space during his time of mourning, but Noctis was never very good at processing situations. Without the other man’s guidance he’d receded deeper inside himself. Noctis festered, considering himself finally broken. The way Gladiolus looked at him right now, however, didn’t resemble pity or sympathy.

But they’d both been stubborn, neither willing to bend. Noctis had wanted to stay distant, once he was huddled and hiding inside himself, lest his weakness infringe on his friends. Gladiolus had wanted Noctis to be something,  _someone_ , that he wasn’t. They’d come to that conclusion a little late, with Noctis a tad slower than Gladiolus on the uptake, apparently. The epiphany came in the face of what Gladiolus was offering him: his way out.

Gladiolus had met him halfway, and Noctis needed to do the same.

Noctis’ concession came in the form of scooting closer to him on the seat. The motion was all the prompting Gladiolus needed to swoop in and envelope him in a hug. Greedily, Noctis took in everything he’d been denied – the body heat and solid weight of him. While Gladiolus nuzzled the top of his head, adjusting Noctis under his chin, it occurred to him that he’d never comprehended just how much he’d depended on Gladiolus to initiate these moments. The idea of going back to a life without it terrified him.

With that in mind, Noctis haltingly admitted as much. His explanations were stunted, and without practice these kinds of exchanges may never become easier, but Gladiolus had bared his soul to him. Noctis  _wanted_ to return the favor. Cuddled against Gladiolus’ side, with the other man’s fingers carding through the shorter hairs at the base of Noctis’ neck, he opened up to him and told Gladiolus  _everything_.

And for the first time in a long while Noctis felt ready to face tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [writing blog on Tumblr](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/) for more content!


End file.
